


Until The End

by northsoutheastmess



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Best Friends, Character Death, Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Exile Arc on Dream Team SMP Canon Divergence (Video Blogging RPF), Friendship, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Manipulative Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), Minecraft, Pain, Sad, Sad Ending, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tragedy, hurt/not much comfort, read trigger warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:01:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29893239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northsoutheastmess/pseuds/northsoutheastmess
Summary: Tommy is heartbroken. Exiled, ostracized, and utterly abandoned, he's finally given up. He finds himself in the Nether, ready to let go. Is this the end for him, or does fate have other plans?Please read trigger warnings at the beginning! thank you :3
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Kudos: 29





	Until The End

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ TRIGGER WARNINGS BELOW. finally posted again xD. warning, this oneshot is pretty sad. there's a lot of hurt, pretty minor comfort honestly, and it's not a good ending, but you may find some slight comfort in the ending, depending on how you feel about it I guess.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: suicide, death, loss, pretty heavy descriptions of disassociation, descriptions of suicidal thoughts, brief reference to manipulation, lots of low self-esteem thoughts, fire, brief mentions of violence (used as metaphors)

Tommy had never felt so cold in his life.

The air was balmy, but his lungs ached as if he’d inhaled freezing water. His hands felt frigid, shaking uncontrollably, and he shivered as a cold sweat broke on his neck and forehead. He fumbled awkwardly to wipe his neck, trying to control his trembling.

He stared down numbly at his pale hands. He felt tired—the kind of tired that seeped into you, soaking into your whole body, your soul, your very bones, making you feel like your whole _being_ was weary. He used to be so energetic, but now all he felt was heavy. It was like there were weights strapped to his body, pulling him down, and every movement felt like a huge effort. He had to force himself to even get up and off the ground where he was sat.

_I’m so tired of being tired_.

His feet began to shuffle along, and he wondered where they were going. He barely felt anything anymore. Sometimes it seemed like he was just watching himself. He didn’t feel…there. He existed, but on a different layer of reality, seeing his body move around, chop wood, pick at grass. Nothing felt real anymore. Nothing felt solid. And honestly, maybe he _wasn’t_ real. Maybe he was just a ghost, floating along through endless days of torture and sorrow, destined to never have peace. He didn’t know. The only thing that seemed to have any clarity in his mind was Tubbo, his very best friend, the only one who had always been by his side no matter what. But even those memories were starting to become fragmented, and he was terrified they would lose their realness. And if those too were lost, Tommy would have nothing left.

But Tubbo had exiled him. The one person he could always count on had left him—not by chance or circumstance or force, but of his own accord. Tubbo had had the power to let him stay, but he’d exiled him out of L’manburg, the very country they’d built _together._ So Tubbo really wasn’t by his side anymore, was he?

Perhaps no one was.

Tommy barely registered the heated particles of the Nether portal prickling his skin as he stepped into it, a familiar nauseating feeling overtaking him as he was transported to the other side. He stumbled out of the portal awkwardly, his numb limbs struggling to function. Taking a moment to steady himself, he leaned against the rocky obsidian frame, tracing circles into the surface with stiff fingers. His head hurt.

Once he felt relatively able, Tommy wrapped his arms around himself and stumbled along the pathway, shuddering as the scorching air began to warm his skin. It was no cozy fireplace, but it would do for now. He bit his lip to ignore the pain as prickles of fire spread through his fingers. It hurt, but that was alright—it brought back fonder memories of sitting by a fireplace after a snow day, letting his extremities warm up, drinking hot cocoa out of a mug. Wilbur would be on the floor next to him, shaking snow from his beanie, probably playing the same song over and over on his guitar until his fingers fell off, and Phil would be humming along, working on some blueprints for his next major project. Tubbo would be attached to his hip, animatedly explaining this new idea for some redstone contraption he had, and he’d would nod along, interjecting from time to time with some half-thought-out idea that would certainly kill them. Eventually he and Tubbo would traverse up to their bedroom, worn out from a long, fun day of playing in the snow, and they’d fall asleep to the crackle of the fireplace and distant sounds of Will’s guitar.

Distracted, Tommy inhaled too deeply and suddenly broke into a coughing fit. The acrid air wasn’t exactly ideal, and all fond memories of the past were quickly washed away by reality. He was in hell, surrounded by lava, abandoned by everyone, a million miles away from those old comforts. Wilbur was dead. Phil was MIA. Tubbo had exiled him from their own country. He was alone.

So he rubbed his stinging eyes, ignored the painful lump in his throat, and continued down the path. He was wearing no armor and had only a few carrots for food, so he was completely vulnerable. If a stray piglin caught sight of him and decided to attack, he’d be dead in seconds. None did.

Once he reached the L’manburg portal, he practically collapsed onto the ground. Ignoring the uncomfortably hot netherrack beneath him, he tilted his gaze upward, tears filling his eyes. To him, it was not just a portal; it was a door to his old life: warmth, comfort and happiness. He had begun to think of his life as Before and After. Before exile was everything he missed: his friends, his home, his freedom. After was now, ostracized from everyone and everything he cared about. There was no respite from his suffering in the After. Even back during the Pogtopia era, when he was on the run with Wilbur, there had always been some sort of way to find solace, whether it be late night walks with Tubbo, cracking jokes with Technoblade, or sitting out in the flower field nearby, watching the sun go down. And even before _that_ , when they’d been fighting for L’manburg’s independence, when Eret had betrayed them all, and they’d had nothing, he’d been okay. Not a single one of them had had even a single wooden tool, but still, Tommy had been happy. Because even with nothing, he’d had everything he needed—his friends. But now, in the After, he had nothing.

Every ounce of his being longed to get up and drag himself into the portal, to see his home again, but he knew it was useless. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the Nether, let alone go into L’manburg. If Dream found out, he’d be furious, and Tommy couldn’t afford to anger the one friend he had left, however lacking that friend was. He couldn’t bring himself to lose _everything_.

And besides, no one even wanted him in L’manburg. Tubbo had exiled him, and the others had done nothing except stand by and watch. If he went back, he had no idea how they’d react. They’d probably bring him to Dream on the spot. They didn’t want him there. He meant nothing to them. All he’d ever caused was trouble, and clearly they felt better off without him.

Tommy tore his eyes away from the portal, and with a great effort, pulled himself up and staggered to the edge of the netherrack. With empty eyes he looked down at the lava below. It was bright and effervescent, and he watched without feeling as the magma bubbled and crackled and popped. He could feel its blazing heat from his perch, and Tommy imagined if he fell in, he’d probably be incinerated on impact, his body turned to embers and his thoughts to ash.

He didn’t know what to feel. Part of it was pain—just so much pain that blazed inside him like a wildfire, crawling up his throat, seeping into his veins, so thick and solid it seemed to choke him. But covering that was a thick layer of emptiness, and somehow that hurt even more. He couldn’t feel. He was numb. Everything he did wasn’t him doing it anymore; he was just a ghost, separated from reality by a thin veil, reduced to some sad spectator. He’d become a bystander to his own life, and that hurt more than any cut, stab, or punch he’d ever felt.

Behind him, the Nether portal gurgled, apathetic, and Tommy cursed it.

He stared down at the lava and felt it pull at him like gravity. It was seductive, inviting, goading him to take a step closer, to just jump in. He imagined the magma embracing him with open arms, cradling his corpse, lulling him to sleep. Its warm embrace was far more appealing than the cold, biting shun of exile, and it was with a sudden start that Tommy realized what he’d come here for, what he had planned to do all along. It certainly wasn’t to cry about the past. It was to die.

Tommy took in a deep breath, and his chest shuddered. His heart was pounding in his ears. He took a step closer to the edge and thought of his friends. His brother. Tubbo. Hot tears rolled down his cheeks, and he let out a choked sob. “Goodbye, Tubbo.”

He stepped off the edge.

“Tommy, no!”

He turned too late, watching his best friend sprint toward him with horrified eyes as his foot slipped off the cliff. Tubbo leapt off, grabbed him, and pulled him into his arms. He felt his stomach drop as they started to plummet and screamed, finally letting it out. In that split second, Tommy realized he didn’t want to die, but it was too late, and suddenly he regretted it all. This was not the solution. This wouldn’t end his pain. This was death, the end of it all. Terror filled him as he realized what he’d done, and he clutched his best friend tight. “Tubbo,” he cried.

“Until the end,” his best friend whispered.

_Until the end._

**TommyInnit tried to swim in lava**

**Tubbo_ tried to swim in lava to save TommyInnit**

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading! if you've gotten this far, i assume you were interested, so check out my other works if you'd like to read more. kudos and comments are very much appreciated, they keep me motivated xD. anyway, thank you! <3
> 
> and reminder because of the heavy topics in this: you are real. you are safe. reality may feel distant sometimes, but you are here, grounded, awake. feel the soft fabric of your hoodie between your fingers, the cool sensation of water soothing your throat when you take a drink. go outside, feel the sun warm your face as it smiles at you. you are real. you deserve to live. suicide is never an answer. life gets really hard, and sometimes it seems there's no way you can get through it, but you can. if you're reading this, you've survived 100% of your bad days so far, so you can survive the rest. think of some things you appreciate, like the way dogs raise their eyebrows, or the way fresh laundry smells, or how people's eyes light up when they talk about something they love. life is beautiful. so are you.


End file.
